


the parking spot

by lunchables



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 11:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchables/pseuds/lunchables
Summary: Petra has had a lot of low moments in her life (poison, blackmail, falsified evidence).So, it's not actually all that petty to send Rafael to seduce the Beautiful Bitch With the Ugly Car by means of convincing her to park somewhere else.Really, she's done worse.Alternatively: a sort-of college AU based on the prompt, "You keep parking in the space outside my student house you absolute asshole."





	the parking spot

**Author's Note:**

> Petramos has been stuck in my head and I really need to get back to studying for finals, so, ~enjoy~

“ _Hey!_ ” Petra shouts as she bursts from the front door, lunging down the porch steps and sprinting across the front lawn to the sidewalk. “You can’t keep parking here, this is my spot.”

With a raised eyebrow, a woman steps out of her dark-green Honda Civic, pushing her sunglasses atop her dark hair. “Excuse me?” she asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she locks her car.

“I said,” Petra huffs, marching up beside the passenger door and planting both hands against the roof of the car. “That you can’t park here. See this house?” Petra jabs a thumb back at the two-story, yellow bungalow behind her.” Yeah, it’s mine. That makes this spot —” Petra waves her hands erratically over the car. “ _Mine_.”

The woman has her arms crossed now as she squints against the midsky sun’s glare, and she cocks her head. “Are you done?”

“Am I— Am I done?” Petra sputters, arching her jaw as a vein pops against the slope of her throat. “Did you, did you just ask me if I’m _do_ —”

“Great, because I’ve got to head to class,” the woman continues. Then, with a lazy salute, she saunters off away from the car and down the sidewalk.

“You can’t just — Get _back_ here!” Petra shouts, her voice cracking.

The woman ignores her entirely, her hips swaying with her steps, and Petra is left stomping her foot with an aggravated yell before she storms back inside.

* * *

 

The next day, Petra is waiting on her porch steps when the car pulls up again, and by the time the woman emerges from the door, Petra has already bound across the lawn and is standing at the hood of the car with her arms crossed.

“Listen,” Petra starts with a bite. “I get that I totally just ambushed you yesterday, but honestly, this really is my parking spot, and I would greatly appreciate it if you parked somewhere else.”

The woman doesn’t dislodge her sunglasses this time, but the eyebrow raise is apparent, and Petra is getting terribly aggravated by the way that stupidly perfect eyebrow arches so fucking perfectly over her perfect goddamn skin.

“Yeah, I bet you would,” the woman replies coolly, leaning against her car.

Petra nods curtly. “Wonderful. So you’ll park somewhere else?”

A grin stretches over the woman’s face, and once again, she pushes away from the car towards the sidewalk. “Not a chance, baby.”

As she glides away, Petra bristles. “You absolutely may not call me that!” she screeches after the tall woman. At least today, the woman has the decency of acknowledging that she’s heard Petra, for she raises her hand in a languid wave over head head, but does not turn around.

* * *

 

“Ma’am, you told us on the phone that the vehicle was on your property.”

“Yes, because it is.”

“You do not own the street, ma’am.”

“Okay, first of all, I need you to stop calling me—”

“What’s going on?” a voice interrupts, and _yes_ , finally, the woman has returned and is approaching her cheap ass Honda now with knitted eyebrows.

The tow truck driver lets out a low sigh, scratching at the stubble of his chin before turning to the police officer. “Can I go now?”

At the scalding heat of Petra’s glare, the officer sighs again, and gestures at the driver to give him a minute.

“Is this your car ma’am?” the officer asks the woman.

“Yes,” she clips. “Is there a problem?”

The glance that the policeman spares at Petra says he would rather be anywhere else right now. “May I see your license and registration?”

With a displeased exhale, the woman unlocks her car and shuffles in her glovebox before giving the officer her papers. When he wanders off back to his squad car to run a check, the woman turns to Petra.

“Seriously? You called a tow on my car?”

“Well, you weren’t listening to me,” Petra hisses indignantly, her lips curling downward.

“Look, what’s your problem? You clearly never park here yourself.”

“My _problem_ is that it clashes poorly with the aesthetic overtone of my property.”

“Oh, you must be joking.”

“I would not—”

“My sincerest apologies, Ms. Ramos,” the officer interjects, returning from his car with a look like he has his tail between his legs. “I am very sorry to waste your time like this, please enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Are you kidding me?” Petra blurts. “It’s in front of my house. What the hell are my taxes for?”

The officer and this Ms. Ramos Bitch ignore her entirely, and the woman smiles assuringly. “It’s alright, Officer Cordero, and Jane is just fine. How’s your daughter doing?”

Petra’s mind reels to a cartoonish halt.

He beams proudly and shrugs. “You know how it is, I can’t stop her from getting her hands on anything within her reach these days. If you talk to your mother, please send her my thanks again.”

Jane’s lips spread warmly over her cheeks. “Of course, it was her pleasure.”

Now, turning to Petra, Officer Cordero presses his lips into a thin line. “Ma’am, as I said, the street is under the town’s jurisdiction, and parking along here is public.” He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something more, but the steam spurting from Petra’s ears seems to deter him. “Right, well, have a nice day ladies.”

“Bye, Michael,” Jane answers with a wiggle of her fingers before turning back to her car.

“Wait,” Petra spouts, rushing after the woman. “You _know_ him?”

The woman — Jane, Petra corrects sourly — offers a sly smirk as she pops open her door, but she leans on its frame instead of slipping in. “My mom runs a law firm in town that handles most of the police department’s cases, she’s all buddy-buddy with the chief there I guess. One of the bridesmaids at his wedding back in the day, actually.”

Petra’s skull is absolutely imploding with radioactive frustration.

“You really shouldn’t use personal connections to bypass the law,” Petra retorts haughtily instead, crossing her arms.

Jane laughs. “Well I guess it’s lucky then that I’m not breaking any laws, isn’t it?”

Petra resists the urge to stomp her foot again. “Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

The smirk never fades from Jane’s lips. “It’s all part of my charm, sweetie. Have a good night, Petra.” And with that, she pulls from the door and slips down into her car, shutting the door.

“Wait!” Petra jumps into place to smack on the woman’s car window. “How do you know my name?” she yells through the glass, but Jane has already turned over the engine and reels away from the curb.

* * *

 

“Okay, I found her.”

Rafael leans over Petra’s shoulder from behind her, and squints at her screen. “Oh damn, she’s a student at MU?”

“Unfortunately,” Petra growls, clicking through Jane’s Facebook profile. Being the daughter of a lawyer, however, there’s little open to the public and Petra can’t find much other than her date of birth, education, and a singular profile picture. “But it explains how she knows my name.”

Rafael pauses, cocking his head as he falls back onto Petra’s bed behind her desk, propping himself on his elbows. “Uh, how does that explain anything?”

With a petulant eye roll, Petra spins around in her computer chair and shoots Rafael a condescending scowl. “Everyone at Marbella knows me, I’m the president of student council and the face of the freshman Welcome Tours.”

“Right,” Rafael drawls with a furrowed brow. “So, what now?”

“Now,” Petra proceeds, twirling back around in her chair. “I find out how to get her expelled.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Rafael exclaims, clambering to his feet to meet Petra back at her desk. “Maybe put that on a back burner for now.”

“Raf, I do not have time for subtlety anymore. She clearly isn’t listening to me anymore, and I’m out of options.”

Rafael groans long and hard, running his hands over his face. “Alright, what are the chances that you’ll let this all go?”

“Absolutely not, are you fucking kidding me Rafael?” Petra erupts. “I can’t even believe that you would even suggest—”

“Okay!” Rafael blurts, raising his hands defensively. “Okay, look, why don’t you just let me talk to her?”

Petra blinks, pauses, before her eyes absolutely gleam with eagerness and a grin flashes over her face. “Rafael, you’re brilliant.”

“I am?”

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Petra mutters, shaking her head and raising a finger to her bottom lip as she visualizes her plan. “This is perfect. What time is it?”

Before Rafael can check his phone, Petra has already returned to her laptop, and then she’s lurching to her feet and tugging Rafael by the wrist out the bedroom door. “We have to go _right now_.”

* * *

 

Petra has had a lot of low moments in her life.

She’s narrowly missed being poisoned by her twin sister (twice, though Anezka claims that expired laxatives hardly qualifies as poison), she’d once blackmailed a gas station clerk in high school for a pack of cigarettes to impress a boy at school, and perhaps she had falsified evidence to get the PE teacher fired — but to be fair, he was a creep anyway, and her act was one of heroism.

So it’s not actually all that petty that Petra is eavesdropping on a conversation from the opposite side of the quad’s fountain with her legs crossed. It’s hardly conniving to listen as her housemate flirt his way under the skirt of the Bitch with the Shitty Car, make her fall in love with him, and convince her to park her dumpster somewhere else, anywhere else.

Really, this isn’t the worst thing she’s done, but Rafael had groaned and grumbled the entire way to campus. “Petra, this is crazy. And like, really creepy.”

Petra scoffed, hooking her arm through his elbow to drag him towards the quad. “Call me crazy one more time and I will snip holes in all the condoms you keep under your bed,” she had flatly warned, scoping out the square for an infuriating head of perfectly luscious hair.

“Do you even hear yourself sometimes?” Rafael challenged, but he fell more easily into step with her.

“Yes, and I amaze myself every day with my ingenious ideas. Oh! Okay, she’s at the fountain, go, work your… bro-stuff on her.”

“My what?”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Petra groaned and shoved him in Jane’s direction.

So, now, she strains an ear over the rushing water to catch Rafael’s sweet talk. Which, Petra can personally vouch for based on past experience, is established to be effective. He’s charmingly making progress, from what she can hear, asking gently about the classes she’s studying and narrowing his line of conversation onto what she seems most passionate about. It’s horribly shallow, but Rafael’s method of picking up girls is maddeningly impressive.

She’s snapped out of her focus when a lanky student screeches his skateboard dangerously close to Petra’s ankles, and she’s practically foaming at the mouth through the stream of expletives she hurls at him. She’s on her feet pounding insults at the poor boy though, when she feels Rafael step up behind her.

With a sigh, she waves off the skater kid irritably and turns around. “Tell me, how did it—”

Okay, no, not Rafael.

“Jane!” Petra exclaims with a sickly high-pitched innocence. “Wow, what are the chances of seeing you here?”

Jane Ramos nails that nauseatingly perfect eyebrow raise once again, and Petra has this urge to shave them off in her sleep.

“Do you always send your boyfriend to handle your dirty work?” Jane asks smoothly with an amused lilt.

“I-I, I do _not_ —” Petra sputters. “Rafael is not my boyfriend, first of all.”

“Ah.” Jane rocks back on her heels nodding, slipping her hands into the front pockets of her low-hanging jeans. “So you did send him, then?”

“I did no such thing.” Petra raises her chin defiantly, crossing her arms. “I am just very accustomed to peoples’ narrow-minded assumptions that I must be sleeping with the man I live with.”

Jane chuckles, and God, even the woman’s low, breathy laugh is melodic, and Petra’s not sure she’s hated anyone more in the last semester. “Right, my mistake. But for future reference,” Jane drawls, tilting her head with teasing, narrowed eyes. “Blondes are more my type.”

The look that Jane drops over Petra’s outfit is absolutely incomprehensible, and when Jane walks off, Petra is more baffled than ever about how absolutely nothing this woman does makes any sense.

As Rafael approaches Petra in Jane’s wake, she doesn’t even offer him a moment of explanation and immediately punches him in the shoulder. “Idiot! What did you do wrong?”

“Dammit, Petra,” Rafael winces, stepping out of her swinging fist’s trajectory. “I didn’t do anything, she’s gay.”

Petra halts her assault, blinking rapidly. “Wait, what?”

Rubbing sorely at his shoulders, Rafael rolls his eyes. “She said she wasn’t interested, and I kept pressing, and so she told me she’s gay, and then she just stood and left and I found her talking to you.”

And, okay, maybe the last lingering look that Jane had levelled over Petra’s silhouette made more sense, particularly her taunting eyes and sultry smirk, and—

 _Oh_.

* * *

 

Petra works a new approach.

Around 4pm the following Monday, she’s leaning against the hood of Jane’s car in an impossibly short, pale blue sundress, dangling above her mid-thighs, with a low scoop between her breasts leaving only lace to cover her cleavage. The high strappy wedges only further accentuate the toned slopes of her long legs, and yes, Petra admits to having a high image of herself, but she absolutely knows that she is walking sex right now.

Except, when Jane rounds the corner and glances up from her phone to see Petra leaned back against her car, the woman fucking laughs.

“What, are you going to seduce me now?” Jane challenges with a smirk, stopping a mere couple feet away from Petra.

“No,” Petra drawls, sitting up and rolling back her shoulders. And as she catches Jane’s eyes flicker down to Petra’s chest, she knows her intentions are obvious, but she smiles nonetheless. “Not at all. I want to take you out… on a date.”

Okay, maybe she’s not quite as smooth at this as Rafael, but she looks hot, so whatever.

Jane laughs again, lobbing her head back, and Petra irritably notices the perfect slope of an artfully sculpted jawline. “Is that so?” Jane asks amusedly. “And this has nothing to do with the parking spot?”

A poster child of innocence, Petra smiles sweetly and shakes her head. “Of course not.”

With curious eyes, Jane steps closer, her gaze drifting over Petra’s face. “Nothing at all?” she prods.

Petra swallows thickly, shifting her weight over her feet but refusing to sidestep Jane’s advancement towards her. The grill of the car behind her, though, just reminds her she has nowhere to go anyway. “Nothing,” Petra confirms.

Jane’s face is dizzyingly close now, her eyes pointedly resting on Petra’s mouth, and Petra resists the urge to lick her lips  as her throat grows uncomfortably dry.

“Well,” Jane draws out, and oh, Petra is growing cross-eyed, and so she just begins to flutter her eyelids closed, when— “Thank you, but I have no interest in being a straight woman’s guinea pig.”

At a quick draft of air, Petra blinks her eyes open to see that Jane was wound around to the door of her car and is slipping the key into the lock. “Wait,” Petra blurts, ( _why_ is she always chasing after this stupid woman? This is _not_ part of the plan!) and rushes to stand beside Jane as she opens her door. “What makes you think I haven’t been with a woman before?”

( _Petra_ , _abort! Stop it!_ )

Jane raises an eyebrow, leaning against the open door. “Have you?”

Procuring a dangerous amount of confidence that she suddenly lacks, Petra is now the one to step closer to Jane. “Yes. Several, actually.”

( _You lying whore!)_

This time, as Jane’s eyes glaze over Petra’s pink lips, the woman looks more forlorn, and she bites on the corner of her own mouth. “You do realize I’m not going to move my car, right?” she asks once more, though never removing the focus of her gaze.

“We’ll see about that,” Petra murmurs, now close enough to feel Jane’s soft exhale against her face.

Before either of them can put it off, Petra finds herself the one pressing forward into Jane, catching her plump lips with her own and slipping a hand under the nape of her neck. Jane responds immediately into the kiss, her hands winding dangerously low on Petra’s back, grazing her ass, and Petra groans into the kiss.

“Car,” Petra mumbles against Jane’s lips, scrabbling at Jane’s neck to pull her closer as she licks into her mouth.

When Jane’s wet mouth glazes over Petra’s jaw, nipping at the corner of her neck, she laughs. “I told you, I’m not moving—”

“God, shut up,” Petra growls, shoving Jane far enough away from her that she can make her point clear. “I mean, _get in the car_.” Petra gestures to the backseat irritably, her hands already reaching for Jane’s hips impatiently.

Which is how they end up in the backseat of a 2004 gas-guzzler, Petra straddling Jane’s hips as she rolls her own desperately against Jane’s flat stomach, their tongues and teeth clashing frantically, and Petra’s moans embarrassingly loud as her dress rides up to her waist.

“Was this the goal?” Jane inquires with a breathless laugh as she runs her hands over Petra’s bare ass, offering a gentle squeeze that has the blonde whining on top of her.

“No,” Petra gasps honestly, fisting Jane’s hair as she continues to kiss Jane sloppily. “Nothing about this was part of the plan.”

When Jane’s hand slips between Petra’s thighs, the blonde’s own hand shoots at the headrest behind Jane’s head for support, and Petra Ramos entirely unravels with a long, wet groan.

Perhaps Petra can learn to live with Jane’s car parked in front of her house.


End file.
